


To Want

by wanderingastro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, uhh keith and shiro love each other and belong to each other ok thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingastro/pseuds/wanderingastro
Summary: All of the things Shiro has never allowed himself to want, and the one thing he does.Or alternatively, the softest smut you’ve ever read.// no s8 spoilers :)





	To Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merwild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merwild/gifts).



> uhhh so I've actually had this sitting on my computer 75% done for a while now but S8 gave me the energy in the form of spite that I needed to finish this lmao. This is also dedicated to one of my favorite artists of all time who has drawn some of my favorite Sheith art to date. Ily Coco <3
> 
> I lowkey don't have a specific time/place that the actual sex is taking place in a my mind but you can make it be their wedding night or maybe their first night together after s8? idk whatever will make u feel happiest :)

 

Shiro remembers the first promise he ever made to himself. He remembers being eight years old, remembers the crease between his mother’s eyes as she listened to the doctor speak in a hushed tone, as he swung his legs from the examination table, back and forth.

 At eight years old, the term ‘degenerative muscle disease’ rings foreign and not quite real. But the pain that keeps him awake at night, the slips of paper that forbid him from playing rowdy in the school yard, and the way his father hides in his room and sobs when he first finds out feel all too real to Shiro. 

Standing in his favorite rocket ship pajamas, clutching a tattered stuffed animal in hand, Shiro presses small fingers to the door as his father’s heavy breaths filter through, and Shiro makes a promise to himself. He will never want. If there is nothing to desire, to aspire to, maybe dying slowly will be less painful. Because eight year old Shiro doesn’t necessarily know he’s dying, but it takes him all of five minutes in that doctor’s office to realize he will never be like the other children again, so he will not hope, or plan, or _want_.

Shiro gets through elementary school, top of his class, quiet and studious. Two years out from graduation, they recruit him to the Garrison. Shiro does his best to tamp the burst of pride he feels at the impressed murmurs the first time he clears the flight sims. This is not a want, Shiro tells himself, it is fulfilling a duty on behalf of the human race. And if the sturdy yoke beneath his fingers as he soars through the skies sends a sharp thrill of happiness through his blood, Shiro allows himself that much.

 A year into Garrison training, Shiro meets Adam. Although Shiro grows to love Adam, he never allows himself to want Adam. Never pictures them becoming old together, or starting a family of their own. Shiro never allows himself that luxury, and although he never tells Adam this straight out, Shiro doesn’t know which one of them it hurts more. 

Within a year of being made officer, Holt approaches him with the proposition of Kerberos. Shiro would be the youngest pilot- and the first- to journey to the moons of Pluto. He doesn’t sleep that night just contemplating it; or for the next two after that.

 Shiro knows he belongs on this mission. He is the Garrison’s top pilot, and the one best equipped to handle this historic flight. And maybe Shiro needs to go, because the universe does not care he is a man dying. Terms like “muscular degeneration rate” and “projected life expectancy” hold no power over the stars. All they see are bones and blood and a little something more; and that is enough.

When Shiro is captured by the Galra, the question of want doesn’t even cross his mind. These are superior beings, apex predators. How could he; a mere human, ever hope- much less want, to escape the Galra’s clutches? These beings control entire galaxies, when his own race have barely skimmed the edge of their solar system. Shiro is a man of logic, and when he enters that arena for the first time, adrenaline edged in fear pumping through his veins, he thinks only of Matt, and prays to whoever will listen that his sacrifice is at least worth something.

And then there is Keith, unexplainably woven through every moment, every thought and every breath of Shiro’s life since he made his tumultuous entry into it. Keith is never a want. At first he is pity. A foster-care child, jagged at the edges and stretched taut at the seams, who somehow beats out all records sets; all of Shiro’s records. It quickly becomes clear that Keith burns too bright, soars too high, to deserve anything but respect; much less pity. 

Then Keith becomes purpose. Shiro finds himself in the way Keith laughs breathless as he skims the edge of desert cliffs, the sound following him as he free falls through the arid skies. He decides he will give Keith everything he has never allowed himself to want. He gives Keith hope and ambition, and maybe unwittingly an example to strive towards.

When Shiro awakes after a year in captivity to the familiar feel of earth’s air in his lungs, and Keith’s thunder eyes above him, maybe his heart stutters in his chest. Gone is the boy who was all loose wiring and coiled springs. That electric current that makes Keith magic has a different energy to it now, like it has finally been directed and flows clearly forwards.

Shiro and Keith rediscover each other amongst the stars. Travelling through time and space, without gravity or oxygen, Shiro has never felt more stable, grounded. His heart is finally tethered to his body with Keith besides him. Shiro tells himself this is still just a friendship, that maybe Shiro is still some sort of a mentor. Like Keith isn’t the one whole talks him through his panic attacks and caresses the parts of himself he hates most. Like somehow the Galran metal is the most precious thing Keith has ever held between his fingertips. Keith quietly and stubbornly stamps himself a perennial shadow at Shiro’s side; his right hand man. Shiro and Keith are just friends.

Shiro’s father has made an honest man of him, but there is no one Shiro lies to better than himself.

His want for Keith had crept up on Shiro like a thief in the night, silent and sweet and overwhelming. Robbing him of air, and logic, and defenses. And now, lying above Keith, watching his thunder eyes flutter, lashes faltering like roiling waves crashing against steady shores, the great walls of marble and steel and barbed wire crumble, melt into his thundering heartbeat, and Shiro _wants._

Shiro wants Keith in every sense of the word, in every language, in every reality, in every way a person can be wanted. One arm sunk into the folds of their sheets, the other laced between the midnight softness of Keith’s hair, Shiro gives Keith everything he has. Buried within Keith, Shiro wants to watch Keith fall apart beneath him, loud and unfiltered and achingly honest. And _oh_. Shiro wants the sharp bite of Keith’s nails across his spine, the little gasps of air caught in Keith’s throat, and the spot at his lower back where Keith’s heels dig in; resolute and possessive.

Shiro thrusts and studies the taut stretch of Keith’s stomach as he arches his back into Shiro’s embrace, registers the soft spoken profanities that slip mindlessly past Keith’s parted lips. Feels the way Keith takes him in the deepest, most intimate parts of himself, honest and true and whole heartedly. Shiro has not wanted for twenty six years and it hits him like a ton of bricks. But Shiro welcomes the weight, drinks it up with hearty thirst. He feels like a space cadet all over again; rediscovering the secrets of the universe.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

Even amidst breathless realization, the novelty of what he is privy to doesn’t escape Shiro. Having Keith, who gifts trust with the rarity of gold, lying beneath him naked in every sense of the word. Shiro wants to drink in the unnatural wonder of it, like an astronomer to a meteor shower or a physicist to a black hole’s event horizon.

Keith makes a home in the crook of Shiro’s neck, where his soft hair tickles at Shiro’s jaw, and his breaths warm Shiro’s skin like a morning’s sunrise. Shiro can feel every part of himself straining to get impossibly closer, to feel just a little more, to caress the softest spots of Keith. Keith moans slow and low, begging without words.

Shiro gives a powerful thrust before reaching his flesh hand between them, wrapping his fingers over the warmth of Keith’s cock. “I want you to come for me.” The words find Keith as he tilts his head back, his dark hair a halo around his head. Shiro fucks Keith into his palm and he wants to swallow the strangled sounds that leave Keith’s lips as he rocks up into Shiro’s hand and finds completion, painting Shiro’s fingertips white.

Shiro gives Keith barely a moment before he resumes his thrusts, and Keith screams. Shiro feels the sharp bite of Keith’s incisors on his shoulder as Keith suffocates him with pleasure and Shiro can feel heat rise like magma in his belly. His thrusts grow sloppy, but Keith meets him halfway, leveraging himself against Shiro, thighs tight against Shiro’s hips.

“Takashi.” 

Only Keith can manage to make thunder sound so sweet. Voice worn and breaking like honey in Shiro’s ear. Shiro’s fingers slip from Keith’s hair and he leans back just enough, lifting Keith hips to watch the point at which their bodies meet. Keith smiles at him, open and proud, and something twists low in Shiro’s stomach. Keith shifts just enough giving Shiro a knowing smirk as his body tightens impossibly around Shiro.

Shiro gasps around Keith’s name as he comes slow and sweet, and Keith is throwing his head back, nails scraping at Shiro’s back, and Shiro’s forehead finds the crook of Keith’s neck just above where it meets his collarbone; presses his lips and whispers, “I love you. I want you.”

Shiro feels a harsh breath against his skin, “You are mine.”

Keith lets Shiro slip out of him slowly, kissing him sweetly all the while.

 Through his post-orgasm haze, Shiro doesn’t think it’s possible to convey all of the thoughts in his head with words, lying here besides Keith in their room, Keith’s skin soft and warm, his pants echoing through the quiet as they lie pressed against each other, chests rising and falling in tandem. But when Keith turns and places a satisfied kiss and murmured “I love you” against Shiro’s temple, Shiro thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> i kindly ask that you not leave any comments about s8 below, positive or negative so there are no spoilers :)  
> if you wanna come scream about Sheith with me you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/solarshiro) and kinda on [tumblr](http://solarshiro.tumblr.com) lol


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